


Extraneous

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2019 [26]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Gen, Isolation, Kidnapping, Loneliness, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: Plus and his fellow Googles have been captured. When the other Googles escape without him, Plus is forced to consider his place among his brothers, and whether he has a place among them at all.Whumptober Day 26: Abandonment





	Extraneous

**Author's Note:**

> This is a callout post @ myself, because I've never written anything from Plus's point of view and definitely don't write or think about him as much as the other Googles. Sorry green bean ;w;
> 
> Enjoy!

Plus does not struggle against the chains holding him down. He does not try to spit the gag out of his mouth. His skin senses the exact amount of pressure bearing down on it, his mind calculates the exact amount of force needed to break himself free. He also calculates how much force he’s currently capable of exerting, and it’s less than normal, thanks to the electric shocks he’s constantly being given by his captors. He is not currently strong enough to break his bonds, so he does not waste his energy in trying.

The humans who have imprisoned him don’t seem to understand that, however, and gloat at Plus as if he’s given up, given into despair. Plus is certainly not happy right now, but he knows that the odds of him escaping eventually are good. His brothers have been captured as well, and are being kept somewhere else in the dingy warehouse Plus is sitting in, but the likelihood that a few humans possess the resources to keep all four of them contained for a long time is extremely low. And once one of them escapes, the odds of him fleeing without trying to break his brothers free are slim to none.

Plus does not need to panic or struggle. He merely needs to let statistics run their course.

Eventually, though, the humans around him find something out that makes them nervous. No, not nervous, afraid. Plus cannot hear them; they’ve put plugs in his ears, and though they cannot block out all sound, they muffle most of it, and Plus can’t determine what’s gotten the humans so rattled. Has one of his brothers escaped? It’s possible. Plus waits to see what will happen.

After a while, one human (his name is Ryan, his observed behavior suggests he’s the leader) approaches Plus to talk to him. He’s unhappy, no, angry, and he sneers with annoyance as he speaks.

“Looks like the other androids got away,” he growls, “You’re the only one left, so we’re making sure as hell that you aren’t going _anywhere_ until we find a buyer for you.”

That confuses Plus a little bit. Have his brothers escaped? Are they still in the building? Ryan seems to notice his confusion and laughs.

“What, are you surprised?” he chuckles, “Did you think they were gonna come back for you? Why would they? You’re all robots anyway, I doubt any of you are even capable of caring. They skipped out and left you here. Lucky you, huh?”

He doesn’t tell Plus anything more, and Plus is left alone with his thoughts. The humans rig up a taser to shock Plus every so often and keep him weak enough to stay put. Plus has nothing to do but think, and think he does.

He ponders what he was told over and over. Ryan didn’t lie; at least not intentionally. Plus could tell by the lines in his face and the quality of his voice that he was telling the truth as much as he understood it. And it’s true that Plus’s brothers have not come for him. Minutes turn to hours since they supposedly escaped, and nothing happens. This outcome is nearly impossible…but only nearly. Even something with a 99.99% probability still has a 0.01% chance of failure.

Then again, the longer Plus stays trussed up and injured in his chains, alone, the more he begins to wonder if he miscalculated the odds from the beginning.

He’s aware, from the vast amount of knowledge at his fingertips, of the rule of three. It’s a convention of the western world, not so much a rule but a pattern, a commonly found constant. Plus sees it in himself: He lists things in threes when speaking to others, he counts down from three when conducting experiments, he runs a minimum of three trials with every experiment, and he notices when the pattern of threes is thrown off. He sees it in writing, from ancient folklore to modern works: Three bears and three little pigs, three wishes and three trials, three acts, three characters, and often, in old stories, three siblings. It makes sense: A conversation can support three people comfortably, but a fourth addition will always be on the outskirts. People gravitate to threes.

Even Mark, possibly, had the rule of three in his mind when he gave Google three brothers. But connected though Plus is to his fellow triplets, they are not the only brothers. Google is there, too; he’s the originator, the oldest, the leader. He cannot be the one left out. Neither can Oliver: He’s the heart, different from the others with his kindness. Chrome cannot be left out either: He’s the one with anger, with violence, power and rage and impulsiveness to counter Google’s cool-headed maturity.

But what of Plus? What is Plus, among these brothers?

Is he the smart one? Of course not; he’s analytical and logic-minded but no more than the rest of his brothers. He isn’t as kind as Oliver, but he’s not unnecessarily cruel. He isn’t as angry as Chrome, but he’s not impassive. He doesn’t have the commanding presence that Google does, and he’d much rather follow his older brother’s lead and soak up his advice than command his fellow triplets along. There’s nothing about him that’s unusual, nothing that facilitates his role in the group. He’s a muddled mish-mash of the other Googles. Unnecessary. Extra. Superfluous.

Well, the rule of three is one thing, but aren’t pairs common, too? Plus looks for solace there, but finds none. Oliver and Google gravitate to each other as a study in opposites: Oliver idolizes Google more than his fellow triplets, and Google knows to treat him gently. Plus supposes that he has Chrome, his twin within a triplet, but Chrome has Yandere, too. If Google and Oliver are opposites, Chrome and Yandere are from the same mold, both violent and impulsive and emotional energy. Plus doesn’t begrudge their relationship, doesn’t mind their brotherhood. But he wonders, sometimes, if Chrome can really be called his twin anymore.

There is another rule, too, in western convention, maybe even worldwide: Never go alone. Never split up to cover more ground. If three is a crowd and two is a perfect pair, then one is the worst.

But here Plus is.

Alone.

Away from home.

Waiting to be sold for parts.

He doesn’t want to lose faith. He doesn’t want to believe they left without him. He runs the numbers, recalibrates, recalculates. Every minute he stays there and stays trapped without his brothers coming to help, the probability that he’s been left behind increases, increases. The odds they’ll ever come back at all decrease, decrease. He can’t reach them with his network; the humans have all sorts of proxies and signal jammers in the warehouse to stop him from getting help on his own. Plus has to rely on his brothers retracing their steps and coming back for him, but why would they? Why would they come back for the fourth brother, the disrupter of the trio, the unnecessary triplet, the one that has nothing to offer? Every time he starts to think he’s gone too far into these thoughts, that maybe his calculations don’t put enough faith in his brothers, the automatic taser shocks him back into despair.

He still does not struggle. He still does not attempt to speak. He knows he is still too weak, it is still pointless. At some point he starts to cry, but his expression does not change: Sedate and subdued, emotionless, yet with eyes streaming tears. He can’t wipe tears away due to his chains, so soon he cannot see. He has no need to blink with the constant moisture in his eyes. He has no need to move. He has no need or ability to do anything at all but remain still, motionless like a statue, watching the odds of rescue get smaller and smaller.

He is still acutely aware of time passing. He has to be for his calculations. One day passes, then another. The same thinking, the same calculating, the same circular observations on pairs and threes and loneliness.

Then, on the third day, something changes.

He hears shouting from the other floors, hears yells of speech and yells of pain. He can tell the difference but not what’s being said; his earplugs are still in, and the sounds he hears from other floors are faint and indistinct. But it’s more than he’s heard in a while, so he listens. Eventually he closes his eyes for the first time in two days. He doesn’t know what it is, and it doesn’t matter. He’s made the calculations, he knows the statistics.

But the statistics fail him again, because muffled footsteps run up to him, muffled words are shouted to him, then the earplugs are removed and everything is suddenly louder, hands are suddenly pulling the gag out of his mouth, then the hands are breaking his chains. In the background are sounds of an ongoing fight. The same hands that freed Plus from his bonds grab his face, brush tears away.

“Plus, open your eyes, it’s me,” says…says…

Says the minuscule probability.

Says _Google_.

Plus’s eyes shoot open automatically. Google is staring at him, worried, almost afraid, but when is Google ever afraid?

“Blue, is he okay??” screams Oliver from a distance, still in the middle of a fight keeping humans at bay.

“We’re almost done with these assholes,” yells Chrome, fighting alongside Oliver, “Let’s get out of here fast!”

“Plus, don’t cry anymore,” Google says, quietly astonished, “We’re here, we’re taking you home.”

“Wh…” Plus’s voice is out of practice from his two days of silence. “Where did you go?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so small. He doesn’t mean to sound so brokenhearted. He doesn’t mean to make Google make that face, like his core’s been torn out of his chest.

“We didn’t want to leave you behind,” Google murmurs, aching and sad, “But we were in no condition to free you. We would’ve been recaptured if we’d tried to find you, so we went home, recovered, and came back.” He strokes Plus’s cheeks with his thumbs, catching tears. “We’re here now. We’re sorry it took so long.”

The calculations, the statistics, the rule of three, the theme of pairs, they all fall out of Plus’s mind in an instant. He tells himself to stop crying. He starts sobbing instead, grabbing desperately onto Google. Google hugs him just as tight, strokes his hair, tries to shush him. That’s when other footsteps approach them, and two more bodies press in on either side. Someone on his right presses a kiss to his temple – Oliver, he’s the only brother who ever gives Plus kisses. Someone on his left squeezes his shoulder – Chrome, he’s the one who comforts with pressure. More arms wrap around him, and Plus can’t help but keep crying as his brothers surround him with warmth. How could he ever think they’d abandon him? It feels like a betrayal.

“I’m sorry, I thought, I thought,” Plus wails.

“Shh,” Google tells him, “It’s alright, Plus.”

“We love you, shamrock,” Oliver whispers, sounding as though he’s crying, too.

“We’d never leave you, Green, no matter what,” Chrome promises.

Eventually, Google stands, sweeping Plus into his arms to carry him. Oliver and Chrome follow, still keeping one hand on Plus each like they’re afraid to let him go. They leave as a solid unit of four, statistically improbable, but viable all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Even if I don't love Plus to enough to write about him regularly, his brothers love him plenty :')


End file.
